


Admiring the Detective Inspector

by scribblingnellie (onegirlandherpen)



Series: The Detective Inspector [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Co-workers, Colleagues - Freeform, Crushing on the boss, Daydreaming, Dinner, Divorced Greg Lestrade, F/M, Flirting, Hugs, Kissing, Lestrade Appreciation, New Years, Office Relationship, Office Romance?, Office Supplies, POV Original Female Character, POV Second Person, Scotland Yard, Sexy Lestrade, Silver Fox Greg Lestrade, beans on toast, biscuits - Freeform, colleagues to friends to lovers, pub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24664969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onegirlandherpen/pseuds/scribblingnellie
Summary: He's gorgeous and sexy and charming and lovely. But DI Lestrade is off limits. And office romances are never a good idea. Are they?
Relationships: Greg Lestrade/Original Female Character
Series: The Detective Inspector [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1079862
Comments: 22
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2016. Title inspired by all those fabulous Mills and Boon titles that I get to work with all day! Reposting.

***

You watch his hands. You can't stop watching his hands. Broad fingers that delicately twirl the pen, hands that you imagine could touch you so gently, yet still hold you safely back from any danger. His fingers run through that beautiful hair; it's silver, but it's also grey and dark and white and when you tilt your head you see the different shades as the light from the large window catches it and you can't stop staring.

Does he even know how handsome he is? No. You remember his face yesterday - confused, startled, cornered - as the new admin assistant chatted him up in the tiny staff kitchen. He'd gone in there to make coffee and found himself backed up against the fridge. You sent the admin off, a quiet word in her ear, and got a grateful, and gorgeously knee wobbling, smile from him. That smile stayed with you all day, into the evening. It's still there, the memory tucked away, ready to bring out again when needed.

His hand runs though his hair again, slowly, stopping at his neck. You bite your lip. God, you daydream about doing that, about leaning in close, smelling the coffee and cigarettes and his clean, sharp aftershave, and getting your fingers caught in those silver strands. You're doing it right now, watching him from your desk, trying to look as though you're actually working on the staff leave requests for the quarter and not staring longingly at him. I mean, seriously, he'll never have given you any more thought than you're there to keep the office running - make sure all the paperwork's filed, the rotas are done, the kitchen's tidy, the stationery cupboard's stocked and he's got a decent supply of biscuits to... sorry, that the team have got a decent supply of biscuits to get them through the long days.

Oh well. You let out the breath you're holding and pull your eyes reluctantly away from him as he taps the pen against his cheek. Back to entering dates and names and trying to manage an office of stressed police detectives who really should take leave more often. Anyway, DI Lestrade is strictly off limits.

*****


	2. Chapter 2

***

Post It notes - that's the one that surprises you. You can understand a team of Scotland Yard detectives getting through paperclips like they're going out of fashion, but it's the Post It notes that you're always reordering for them. You stack the latest delivery carefully - by size, colour and shape - taking satisfaction in the neat and ordered shelf. Last packet done, you step back from between the open cupboard doors.

'Oop!' Right into a solid object.

And then strong firm hands steady you. 'Oh, hey, sorry...'

That voice. It makes your whole body spark whenever you hear it. Looking up, all you can see are his incredible dark brown eyes. Greg Lestrade is standing beside you, his warm hand on your shoulder. Suddenly your heart is racing and you can't look away; he smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and your knees wobble just a bit. Well, quite a lot actually. Your eyes drop to his lips, to that disarming grin and you're thinking how wonderful it would be to wake up every morning to that smile and to those eyes.

'You ok?'

'Hmm?'

The light squeeze on your shoulder breaks into your daydream. You're staring at him. Oh, god, you're staring.

'Oh, gosh..sorry. I was, um, miles away there.'

Quickly you tear your eyes from his, taking a step backwards as you try not to blush. Really, all you want to do is crawl into the cupboard and hide. Mortifying.

'Hey, it's ok. Busy day. Is that the new stock in?' His hand drops from your shoulder, nodding at the tidy piles of sticky notepads.

'Ah, yes... more Post It notes that you can poke a stick at...' What?!

He's laughing that sexy throaty chuckle and the butterflies start swooping around inside your chest, as always.

'Brilliant. I could do with some more.' Running his fingers hypnotically down a stack of cello wrapped yellow square pads. 'Someone's definitely pinching my stash from my desk - there never seems to be any there when I need 'em.'

'Maybe you've just forgotten where you put them.'

'Hah, oh yeah! That's old age for you.'

'You're not old, Inspector...'

He's turning, half a dozen Post It pads in his hand, grinning at you. 'Am I not?'

Your heart thuds against your chest; there's something light, almost teasing in his voice. Is he flirting? The corners of his eyes crinkle again and you just want to reach up and run your thumb over them. Instead, you grasp your hands behind you, out of temptation's way. He's your boss, you have to remind yourself. Well, sort of your boss, he's the other detectives' boss so he's in charge in the office.

'No.' Shaking your head, avoiding his eyes.

'Well, hey, thanks for that.'

'You're welcome.' Clearing your throat, you look across the jumble of desks and cubicles, trying to recall the next job on your long list for today. 'So, um, I better get on... stuff to do...'

And then you're quickly striding back across the office, dragging your mortification with you.

*****


	3. Chapter 3

***

'So, how is it?'

Leaning against the door frame, you can't help smiling at the unmistakable delight on his face. Swiveling from side to side, he reaches underneath to adjust the levers. A sudden drop and his body bounces against the back of the new, fancy chair. He looks up and gives you that grin - the one that makes your knees go rather weak.

'Perfect, once I get the height right.'

He's fiddling with the other lever and suddenly leans back too far. Laughing, he runs a hand through his gorgeous locks, disheveling them as he goes.

Ok, that is very, very sexy. Grasping the collection of files tighter against your chest, you can feel your hands ache, and you're wishing, again, that it was your fingers tangling themselves in the silver strands and messing them all up.

'Good.' You hope it doesn't sound as high pitched as it feels. 'We can't have the boss sitting on a dodgy chair.'

'Hah, or falling off one. You know, my backside still hurts. At least there was no one to see me. I mean...'

Greg Lestrade's backside. Yep, you're thinking about it, and picturing it. How can you not? You like admiring the view from behind as he strides across the office, or leans over to refill the photocopier paper.

The thud of a drawer opening and closing brings you out of your daydream. He's looking over at you, the chair drawn up to his desk, his elbows planted on top of a pile of scattered files.

'Listen, thanks for this, for going to all this trouble. I know you had to twist a few arms to get it sorted.'

You'd happily twist as many arms as necessary.

'No problem. All part of the job, Inspector.' Straightening yourself up, you step back out of the doorway.

'You can call me...' But he's interrupted by the insistent ringing of his phone. Giving you an apologetic smile, he reaches across the desk. 'Sorry.'

You shake your head, holding your hand up. 'No, no, it's ok. I best let you get on.'

Pulling his office door closed, you head back towards your desk, that small smile replaying itself in your mind. How can a smile be charming, sexy, contrite and friendly all at once? Rather easily and handsomely it seems.

The large yellow note stuck to your keyboard catches your eye as you drop the files onto your desk. 'What's this.. oh.'

_For the best office manager. Thank you. Greg._

As you reach out and pick it up, you discover that it's actually not stuck on your keyboard but on a Fry's Peppermint Cream. Running your fingers over the wrapper, your heart misses several beats and you're pretty sure all the air's just evacuated itself out of your lungs. He knows your favourite chocolate bar. How does he know? And what does it mean?

*****


	4. Chapter 4

***

Eleven. Well, eleven that you can see, just sitting there in the sink. Some days you do wonder how a team of supposedly intelligent people lack something as the simple ability to clean up after themselves. Do they really think that there's such a thing as washing up fairies who'll come and do their mugs for them?

'Now if only there was.'

Oh! You're not as alone in the staff kitchen as you thought. Quickly turning around, you blush when you discover who it is. Leaning against the doorframe, Greg Lestrade, empty mug in hand, grins at you. Your heart misses a few beats.

'Did I just say that out loud?' Looking away, you grab the bottle of washing liquid off the bench.

You don't normally talk out loud, but the pile of dirty mugs - some still half full of cold brown liquid - randomly dumped in the sink has obviously pissed you off.

'Yeah, you did.' That gorgeous sexy laugh makes your skin tingle. He's now standing right beside you at the sink.

'Sorry.'

'Don't be. They shouldn't be leaving their mugs like that. And it's not your job to clean up after them.'

'Probably not, but I hate seeing mess and.. oh..'

His gorgeous hand gently tugs the washing liquid bottle from you. Up so close, you can't help noticing the tiny silver hairs set off against his lightly tanned skin - even in winter Greg Lestrade looks like he's caught the sun. A tan that carries on up his arm, with more hairs scattered across a lovely forearm, sleeves rolled up to reveal a little more than usual...

Oh god, you're staring at him again. You can feel yourself seriously blushing now.

'Um, sorry, I..' Clearing your throat, you take the bottle back from him. 'Just this once - we need the mugs for the meeting this afternoon.'

Turning on the hot tap, you try to distract yourself from how near he actually is; there's a serious lack of space between your arm and his. You know you should step away, you should but you can't. Not with the delicious feeling - all goose bumps and sparks - racing up and down your body.

'Ok. Just this once.' Greg grabs the tea towel from the holder on the wall. 'But I'll dry.'

'No, Inspector, you don't need to do that, really.'

'Yes, I do. And then I need to give them all a serious bollocking about mugs.' He's grinning and shaking his head. 'And please, call me Greg.'

'Oh... ok.'

*****


	5. Chapter 5

***

'I wouldn't go in there just now.'

You stop, your hand in mid air ready to knock on his office door, as Sergeant Donovan appears beside you. With her mobile clamped to her ear and her face anxious, she looks through the half frosted glass wall and screws her mouth up.

'Why does she call him here? And why doesn't he just hang up? ...sorry, forget I said that.'

Shaking her head, she lets her phone drop, catching it and cancelling her call. 'Is it important? What you wanted to see him about.'

_She._ The way the sarge almost spits the word out can only mean one person. Shit. Gripping the stack of Post It notepads, you immediately feel like an idiot because they're just an excuse to see him and talk to him. Stupid idea.

'No, it's ok... it can wait.'

Your eyes follow Greg, his mobile to his ear, as he paces inside the small office and then stops and leans against the filing cabinet, his hand rubbing over his face. Even through the glass, the pain you see in his eyes hits you hard, tightening inside your chest. Fingers scrapping through his hair, eyes closing as he drops his head forward, Greg looks hurt and exhausted. All you want to do to smooth that sad expression from his face, slip your fingers gently across his forehead and look into those beautiful brown eyes...

'Give him time.'

'Huh?... '

Sergeant Donovan's voice breaks into your thoughts, startling you, and you realise how totally inappropriate those thoughts actually are. Good grief - he's on the phone to his soon to be ex-wife, obviously upset, and you're fantasizing about him. No.

'Um, yes, of course. I'll just...' Trying to gather yourself together, you turn to head back to your desk. 'I'll come back latter and...'

But you feel the sarge's hand on your arm and she's leaning in closer, her face concerned.

'Don't let him brood on it. He will, and he'll blame himself and feel bad about what happened but don't let him.' Looking over her shoulder at her boss, a sad smile crosses her lips and then she turns back to you, eyes hopeful. 'Take his mind off it.'

Does she think...? Oh god, have you been that obvious? Does the whole office know you fancy him? The thought is slightly terrifying.

'Sarge, I'm not...' Shaking your head vigorously. '...there's nothing going on between us. Honestly. Inspector Lestrade's a friend.'

A quick squeeze and she drops her hand. 'He likes you. I know he does. He just needs a little encouragement.'

What? Greg likes you? But, how, when...?

'Sarge, I..'

You must look completely shocked because she's smiling again and her eyes light up.

'Just a little encouragement.'

And then Sergeant Donovan's striding off across the office, her hair bobbing around her, and you're still standing there with your heart pounding, and probably your mouth hanging open, as you watch her go and there's so many questions and thoughts racing around your head and you take a long, slow breath...

Greg likes you?

*****


	6. Chapter 6

***

It's just gone 7 - the light's still on in his office. Through the glass panel you can see Greg hunching over his desk, chin in his hand. Your heart tugs at the sight - he looks worn out and overworked and worried. It's his fourth late night in a row, and you're pretty sure on one of those he didn't go home at all, judging by the suit bag you'd seen slung over his chair.

There's a few other people scattered around the team's office, but most of them have gone home; even you should have been gone an hour ago. Tucking the packet under your arm, you knock gently.

'Come in?'

Pushing open his office door, you hold up the mug of coffee. 'Hey. You look like you need one.'

'Oh, hey.' Greg's straightening himself up, pushing his glasses back up his nose. God, he's so handsome with them on. 'You're here late. Everything all right?'

You nod, stepping up to his desk. 'I could say the same to you.'

'I'm the boss, apparently...' A small smile crosses his lips. '..so I'm allowed to work late. You?'

'Paperwork. I hate to leave stuff not done. Anyway, thought you could do with a coffee. And some biscuits.' Reaching across his messy desk, you place the mug in front of him, and the packet of bourbons you ordered specially for him.

Greg's staring at them. 'You bought those for me?'

'Yeah.' Grasping your hands in front of you to stop yourself from leaning back over and smoothing away the weariness on his rugged face, and touching that stubble. 'They seem to be disappearing pretty quickly from the tin, so I thought you might like your own personal stash. You know, just in case.'

'I, um...' He looks tired, surprised, pleased. Fingers gently resting on the biscuits, such beautiful hands. 'Thank you.'

Looking back up at you, his expression makes your heart stop. Oh. He's looking straight into you - quite intently - and you're sure all your thoughts and feelings and the butterflies dashing around in your chest are pretty obvious. Suddenly you don't know how that makes you feel, even after what Sergeant Donovan said this morning.

'No problem. I, um... I better head off or Reggie'll be wondering where I am.'

'Reggie? Your boyfriend?' Is that disappointment in his voice? '...oh god, sorry, that's none of my business.'

Smiling, you shake your head. 'No, Reggie's my hamster.'

'Ah, right..' And Greg's suddenly grinning like a school boy, that sexy throaty chuckle rumbling out of him.

Bloody hell. Your heart's thudding fast against your chest and your knees are going all wobbly again and you just can't look away.

'It's good to see you smile.' You say it out loud before you realise. 'Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to...'

You stop and turn away. You do mean it - you love seeing him smile. It makes him look so happy and relaxed and handsome. Glancing back, you find yourself falling into his eyes again. Greg's watching you, his face almost... hopeful? Oh.

'I mean it, it is good to see you smile. Anyway...' You gather your coat around you, trying to hide yourself away in it. '...I'll, um, I'll be off. See you tomorrow, yeah.'

And you quickly leave. Grabbing your bag from your desk, you head straight towards the corridor. Should you be so honest, so friendly with him? He's getting a divorce, he's your boss. Is this seriously a good idea? Closing your eyes as you wait for the lift, you really don't know.

*****


	7. Chapter 7

***

_from_ : Lestrade, Greg

_sent_ : Fri 11/12/2015; 20:04

_subject_ : Thank you

___________________________

Hi there,

Just to say thank you for the biscuits and coffee yesterday, it was really kind of you and just what I needed, it'd been a long day. Sorry I didn't get to talk to you today, lots of stuff happening but thank you for sorting the photocopier and Anderson and getting Estates in to sort out the dodgy taps. You're pretty amazing, you know that don't you!

I know I've said it before, but I really do appreciate everything you do. Especially organizing all the meetings over the past couple of weeks, sorry to have dumped that extra work on you.

Seriously couldn't manage without you.

I tried to find you before you left but Sally said you'd already gone. I just wanted to ask if I could take you for a drink after work as a thank you from me, though only if you fancied it of course, no pressure. I know an email's not quite the same as asking you in person but a lot less nerve-racking.

Anyway, I'm off for a few days now, though you know that already! Sorry about the short notice. Hopefully I'll be back on Wednesday if everything gets sorted. Are you going to Xmas drinks at the Crown and Bellows on Thursday? Maybe I can get you that drink then if that's ok. I definitely owe you a pint, probably two!

take care, Greg x

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade

Homicide and Serious Crime Command

New Scotland Yard

Broadway, London

_____________________________

*****


	8. Chapter 8

***

Ok, so, you're standing by a pub bar with Greg Lestrade, as in standing right beside him and there's no space between you. None at all. In fact, his side is pressing against yours and now his hand seems to be resting on your back, and this isn't a light touch, this is firm and steady and you're feeling it through your shirt. Your whole body is feeling it - the warmth of him is melting into your skin, making your heart hammer against your chest and your knees in serious danger of giving up all together. Looking down at the pint in your hand, you're surprised that it isn't shaking.

Since arriving at the Crown and Bellows a couple of hours ago, Greg hasn't moved away from you - what started out as a small gap between you has gradually gotten smaller and smaller and is now nonexistent. He's warm and solid and right there, smiling at you as he takes another long drink from his glass. As you find yourself smiling back, you feel his hand move - he's rubbing up and down your back and you can't help but shiver at the incredible feeling of him touching you and he smiles wider and his hand is now rubbing in slow, seductive circles.

God help you, it's making your chest ache and your arms tingle. Taking a slow sip, trying to focus on holding the glass steady, his gorgeous face appears at the corner of your eye and you feel his breath against your ear and you're pretty sure you are going to melt into a puddle right there and then.

'Listen, I reckon I'm all done here. D'you fancy something to eat, somewhere a bit quieter?'

That rough sexy voice is like a jolt of electricity, and you turn, look over the top of your pint glass at him and feel your heart stop.

Bloody hell, you know how lovely his eyes are, but up this close they are so striking - even in the dim light of the pub you're caught by their intensity and how much they make you think of rich, delicious chocolate. Did he just say something about leaving? About going somewhere to eat?

Alone, with Greg? Gathering your senses, you nod.

'Yeah?' And then he's grinning again, letting his hand slip down and around your waist. 'Brilliant. Let's go.'

Gentle pressure on your waist as he turns away from the bar, taking you with him. You stop to grab your coat from the pile slung over a nearby chair, feeling his fingers squeeze you softly. The two of you start to negotiate your way through the packed pub. You see Sergeant Donovan in the crowd, smiling over at you, a small subtle nod and she's back to talking to Inspector Dimmock. Did Greg see her? Nearing the door, you feel his arm pull you closer against him and you're absolutely positive your waist is on fire.

As he holds the door open for you to go out ahead of him, Greg grins and you just want to reach up and kiss him, take his face in your hands and feel him pull you tight against him and kiss you like nothing else existed.

Hmm, ok, breathe.

'So, there's this little Italian place nearby...' Out on the pavement, he's pulling his coat on, running a hand over his hair. 'If you fancy it?'

'That sounds great, I..' Your coat isn't co-operating and you keep missing the arm hole. Embarrassing. 'Sorry, I just...'

'Here, let me get that.'

Taking hold of your coat, he guides it over your arms, settling it on your shoulders. You can feel him gently pull your hair out from under the collar, his fingertips resting on your neck and you shiver again at his touch - sexy and gentle and bloody wonderful.

'Thank you.'

'No problem.'

His fingertips are gone from your neck and you miss them straight away, that is until you feel his hand slip softly into yours, fingers tangling and holding on tight.

'Greg, I...' Should you say it?

'What is it?' A gentle touch on your cheek - he's right there in front of you, looking concerned. 'You're all right with this? I mean, if you're not we don't have to, I don't want to pressure you...'

'I'm ok with it.' Feeling his strong hand in yours, his finger resting gently on your cheek, you hold his eyes. Bloody hell, this is actually happening. 'Very ok.'

His face lights up and that happy smile is back. 'You are?'

'I am.'

*****


	9. Chapter 9

***

'Tough day?'

'Oh!' You jump at the sudden voice next to you - a very particular, very sexy voice.

Looking up from rummaging in your bag for your oyster card, there's Greg standing rather close, those beautiful, concerned eyes looking straight into you. You can't help smiling, even though it has been a long, tiring, stressful day and all you want to do now is go home and wrap yourself in a warm, toasty blanket on the sofa.

'Yeah, just a little. Be glad when I get in tonight.'

He's watching you loop your scarf around your neck, his eyes following your hands as you tuck the ends into your coat.

'Listen, if you want, I can...' Greg leans in closer, his voice almost a whisper, and you can feel the goose bumps running down your neck at the soft tickle of his breath on your cheek. '.. I can give you a lift if you like. I mean, it's freezing out there and the Tube'll be rammed and smelly and... I'd love your company.'

He's rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, looking a little self-conscious and thoroughly lovely. You so want to wrap your arms around him and hug him to you.

'You were definitely convincing me with cold and smelly and crowded, but I think that last one sold it.'

You catch him grinning as you pull your gloves on and your heart stumbles. It's been doing that quite a lot since last Wednesday night and dinner at Giovanni's. From legs bumping under the table, spaghetti in your lap and a stroll along the Embankment with Greg's hand warmly tucked around yours inside his coat pocket, it'd been a lovely evening - just you and Greg and the wonderful feel of him there beside you.

'Yeah?'

Greg's eyes quickly look around the office, before settling back on you. God, you really do just want to reach up and touch his face. I mean, there's stubble and that handsome jaw and gorgeous mouth.

Breathe

'Yeah. I'd love your company too.' Hoisting your bag onto your shoulder, you smile up at him and he's grinning back and then an idea unexpectedly pops into your head, though you're not sure it's one of your better ones. 'Maybe, if you wanted, I could um, make us dinner?'

Can you? You're not exactly known for your culinary skills - beans on toast is a personal favourite. But there's something about Greg's happy smile and his hand gently settling your straying bag strap back onto your shoulder that has you thinking you don't want to eat by yourself tonight, sat alone on the sofa in front of the tele.

'You know, that's the best offer I've had all day.' He crooks his arm out, and with a smile and a few missed heartbeats, you slip your arm through his. 'So long as I get to meet Reggie.'

****


	10. Chapter 10

***

There are empty plates and Greg's socked feet propped up on the coffee table, the soft sounds of Chopin (possibly) drifting over from the speakers. You're leaning your head on your hand, curved into the corner of the sofa, staring. He's right beside you, shoes off, tie discarded, his eyes closed as he rests his head against the back of your sofa.

You'll probably need to pinch yourself soon, if only to stop the crazed butterflies dashing around inside your chest. I mean, he's here in your flat, getting comfortable on your sofa.

As Greg rubs a hand over his face, you can't resist stretching your foot across and pressing it gently against his thigh. Turning his head, eyes slowly opening, he smiles up at you. Bloody hell, how is he so handsome and lovely?

'Thank you.'

The sparks rush down your spine at his sexy, rough voice and you realise that you're staring at his chest, watching it rise and fall beneath his rumpled, half untucked shirt.

'You're welcome.' Reluctantly tearing your eyes away from those undone top buttons. 'Sorry it was only beans on toast - not much of a cook, me.'

Oh. His hand is now wrapping itself around your foot and gently massaging through your socks.

'They were perfect beans on toast.' Blinking his eyes a few times, he tries to stifle a yawn. 'Sorry. What time is it?'

'About ten, I think.' Turning your head, you check the time on the clock over the TV, wriggling your toes as he slowly rubs each one. 'Yeah, just gone ten.'

'Ten. Right. Should probably get going soon.'

Shame. You stretch your foot under his hand, lifting it ever so slightly to rest it on his leg. 'Hmm, that's nice. Thank you.'

Grinning, Greg squeezes your foot and lets go. Feeling a little bereft without his touch, you move your leg out of the way as he plonks his feet onto the floor and sits up. Bending forward to retrieve his shoes, he stops. Closing his eyes again, elbows on his knees, Greg drops his face into his hands, palms scratching against the stubble. Suddenly, he looks so tired and worn out.

'Greg? What it is?'

'Sorry, I'm just...' Hands rubbing at his face, scraping through his hair. 'I got the letter yesterday. I'm official now.'

'Official?'

'Officially not a married man.'

'Oh, Greg.' Shuffling across the small space between you, you slip your arm through his. He leans against you and you try to ignore the heat where his body touches yours. 'You're ok?'

'Yeah.' He tangles his fingers with yours, squeezing gently, a half smile crossing his beautiful lips. 'Getting there.'

He's putting his head on your shoulder and you can feel his hair tickling your cheek. It's a soft, almost not there kind of touch but it feels so intimate - Greg leaning against you, holding your hand, his thumb rubbing along yours as you sit together on your sofa. It's a bit surreal actually. You're close enough to see the curls of silver chest hair, to inhale the familiar scent of cigarettes and his favourite woody aftershave - and close enough to kiss him. A shiver runs through you.

Greg must feel it because he moves, lifting his head to look at you, his dark eyes holding yours. God, those beautiful, honest eyes. It's a look that makes you suddenly lean in and kiss his cheek, the gorgeous graze of stubble on your lips. And then his arms are slipping around you, hugging you into him, his head pressing against yours. Oh, this is wonderful. Warm, intense, secure. Greg feels so nice - you're quite happy to just stay there snug in his arms. All too soon though he's pulling back, his hand finding yours again.

'Thanks, I needed that. And thank you for dinner. '

'Any time.'

'I'll hold you to that.' He grins, his eyes searching yours. What's he thinking?

What are you thinking?

That you like him being there, that you definitely like hugging and kissing him and the feel of his body against yours. That you want to kiss him again, properly. That the look in his eyes is giving you serious feels all over your body. And that being anything more than friends isn't possible right now.

Holding his eyes, the warmth of his hug lingering on your skin, you know you want more. God, you're falling for him. Your heart stops. You really are falling for him. This is more than just admiring him across the office, more than being friends. Greg Lestrade's gotten under your skin, and you want him.

But that has to wait. Taking a deep breath, you push away the butterflies and bring your swooping stomach under control.

'Right, better get you off home then.'

*****


	11. Chapter 11

***

_Tues, 22/12/15, 14.28_

_Sorry, sorry. I know you're on holiday but the office is_

_definitely missing you! We can't find the toner cartridges_

_for the photocopiers. G_

No problem! In the larger stationery cupboard by the water

cooler - it's only one they'll fit in. Makes no sense I know but

they won't let me move the cupboard.

_Cheers. You're a star. I'll have a word and get it moved. G_

Thank you. And please don't work too late!

_Promise I won't. Enjoy Wales G x_

_Fri, 25/12/15, 18.41_

_Merry Christmas. Hope you had a good one. G_

Hey you. Merry Christmas. I did. You?

_Good. Left my sister's early - having a quiet night in now. G_

Sounds blissful. Swap you for nieces and nephews and Monopoly.

_Ha! Enjoy. Got my Maltesers and new Black Sails box set. G_

Oh, I'm jealous. Really want to see that!

_Then I'll save it - we could binge watch it at mine. G_

Really? I'd like that.

_You would? How about New Year's Eve? Unless you've got_

_plans? G_

No plans. Don't really do New Year's Eve.

_Me neither. So, date then? G_

Yes, definitely. I'll bring the Maltesers.

_You're on. And I'll make us dinner. G_

_Sun, 27/12/15, 08.36_

_Hey. Just sitting watching the snow and missing being around you._

_I know I'm all over the place with this, with us, and I'm sorry._ _But I_

_do miss you. G_

Hey. Drinking tea by the range, listening to the dogs snoring and

missing you too. Don't be sorry - I'm happy to do this which ever

way you need to. See you Tuesday. I'll be there with coffee

and bourbons.

_Thank you. Bourbons? You know, Ihink I could really get to like_

_you. G x_

*****


	12. Chapter 12

***

God, he is so handsome. You haven't seen him for over a week and the sight of him, his backside against his desk, fingers tapping at his phone, makes you feel seriously happy all over. You can't help staring - his trousers tighten as they skim down from his waist, curving around his bottom. Your eyes are following that gorgeous curve around and to the front...

Oh good grief. It's neither the time nor place to be ogling Greg.

You knock lightly against his office door. 'Morning.'

'Oh, hey.' There's that beautiful smile as his eyes look up from his phone. 'Morning to you too.'

'So, as promised...'

Stepping into the office, you pull the packet of bourbons from behind your back and place them on his desk. Greg's eyes brighten and he chuckles in that gorgeous, sexy way that makes your skin tingle.

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

Something catches his eye and he's looking over your shoulder. Pushing himself off his desk, his body brushes against you as he reaches past and gently closes the door. You hold your breath, feeling him there - his warmth and the scent of shampoo and aftershave fogging up your senses.

Letting your eyes wander along his clean shaven jaw, down his neck, taking him all in.

'Listen, can I ask you.. about New Year's Eve, you're sure about coming over to mine?'

Looking up, you're surprised to see doubt and uncertainty in those beautiful brown eyes. It tugs at your heart and you're angry that someone could hurt Greg and make him doubt how wonderful a person he is. You take his hand, tangling fingers and hanging on tight.

'Very sure. Nowhere else I'd rather be.'

'Yeah?'

Nodding, you feel the butterflies return at his shy grin; how is he so lovely and decent and gorgeous all at once?

'Yes.'

'Great. Just wanted to check, you know, in case you'd changed your mind.'

'No.' Shaking your head. 'I really want to.'

Lowering his head, his voice soft in your ear. 'I really want to as well.'

Smiling, he squeezes your hand and his eyes look up over your shoulder again, out into the main office. You have been standing rather close - has anyone noticed?

'No one watching?' you ask.

'No, no one watching.'

And he's lifting your hand up, closer and closer to his mouth, not taking his eyes from yours. Oh god, he's going to. He really is going to, here in his office, in front of his team. You're holding your breath. Soft, warm lips press against your skin - Greg's kissing your hand. There's a definite hammering in your chest and wobbling in your knees now. His lips are so tender, his eyes hold yours intently. You reach up, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Oh. It's so intimate, so sexy.

Pulling back, Greg holds your hand against his chin. 'I missed you.'

Another feathery kiss across the back of your hand. You're completely caught in his beautiful eyes, your skin very, very warm under his touch.

'I missed you too.' Rubbing a finger over the smooth fabric of his shirt, wondering what he looks like without it on.

'If you wanted to... you can, um, stay over New Year's Eve.' His voice is low, almost a whisper. 'I mean, only if you want to.' Oh.

Breathe. Breathe.

Your heart's hammering even faster now. Bloody hell. Stay the night at his place? In his bed? Do you want to? The thought of sex with Greg brings you out in goose bumps everywhere.

A sudden loud knock on the door and you both jump. Greg grins sheepishly, stepping back quickly as the door swings purposefully open.

'You'll need to put her down now, boss.' Sergeant Donovan's in the doorway, not even trying to hide her smile as her eyes drop to Greg's hand in yours. 'Meeting with the Chief Super, remember?'

'Oh, bollocks. Sorry.. yes, meeting.'

Letting go of your hand, he turns and grabs a bunch of files from his desk while Sergeant Donovan tactfully retreats.

A heated touch on your hip and Greg's leaning close, his breath against your cheek. 'No need to decide right now.'

Nodding, you smile as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up beautifully as he leaves his office. You're pretty sure you know what your answer will be.

*****


	13. Chapter 13

***

Sunlight's trying to sneak into your eyes - it must be gone 9 o'clock. Slowly opening them, you take in the room - black jumper slung over the armchair, black and white print of the London skyline on the wall, cosy dark green duvet you're currently snuggled under. Your feet find the warm spot where he'd eventually fallen asleep beside you, his arm around your waist, his slow, steady breathing tickling your neck.

Your heart stutters over a few beats, and a soft giggle escapes your mouth.

You're in Greg Lestrade's bed. In his bed wearing his tee shirt, surrounded by the scent of him and the feel of him still on your skin. In his bed where he'd done rather fabulous things with his fingers and his tongue last night, and earlier this morning. You grin, blush, roll onto your stomach and giggle into the pillow.

Sex with Greg was wonderful. The whole evening had been wonderful right from the start. Greg answering his front door in jeans, jumper and apron; giving you the tour of his house, and a quick tune on his guitar; gorgeous dinner of sausage and mash and bottle of posh Cabernet Sauvignon; apple crumble and ice cream on the sofa, and Greg's reindeer socks; coffee, chocolates and Black Sails box set; watching only two episodes before you're kissing and discovering how clever his hands are.

Just thinking about it makes you shiver with pleasure, and with happiness. Greg is a lovely, decent man and he spent New Year's Eve with you. You. Laughing, you roll back over and stretch your arms above you. Taking a deep breath, instilling a little calm into your giddy body.

You hear creaking stairs and footsteps out in the hallway. You can smell the aroma of pure, roasted bliss wafting from the door. Greg's standing there, tray in his hands, his dressing gown open, revealing that beautiful naked chest and the tight boxers - which you can't help admiring.

'Hey, sleepy head. Coffee.'

'Oo, lovely, thank you.'

Settling himself down on the bed, he's placing the tray - two large mugs of gorgeous dark coffee and a plate of bourbons - between you. You shuffle up, your back against the pillows as he passes you one of the steaming, deliciously warm mugs. You can definitely get used to this.

'Bourbons at home too?'

'Yeah.' He grins, holding up the plate. 'Got a bit of a thing for them.'

'Guess I'll need to bring some round here as well then.' Taking a biscuit, you smile at the pure joy in his eyes, your heart beating a little faster.

'Yeah? So, does this mean... you and me?'

'Oh, I think so. Definitely.'

*****


	14. Chapter 14

***

_...thanks for popping by this morning and letting me know about you and Inspector Lestrade. DCI Randall's emailed to say that Lestrade's told her as well. I'll inform HR and they'll put the relevant info on file._

_Also, the PA to Assistant Commissioner Jones position closes at the end of the week, if you're still interested in applying. You made a good impression on AC Jones during your secondment last year, I think she might like you back..._

Minimising the email from your supervisor, you bring the Vacancies webpage back up.

_Position: PA to Assistant Commissioner Special Operations. Location: New Scotland Yard._

_38 hours per week. Closing date 8th January._

You are seriously thinking about it, you have been since the position went up on the website before Christmas. You did enjoy those six months working for the Assistant Commissioner and it's a good job, but leave the Serious Crime team? This office full of overworked, dedicated officers who look pleadingly at you when the photocopier won't work or their PC goes on the blink - you've grown fond of them. And very fond of one in particular.

Greg Lestrade's made his way most emphatically into your heart - that smile when he sees you; his eyes looking at you as though nothing else matters; the feel of his hands touching you, gentle and safe and passionate; his slow, hot kisses. There'd been quite a few of those on New Year's Day, and the day after as well - one night together had turned into two days of gorgeous kisses and sex, and Greg's amazing cooking.

Ok, enough of that.

Clearing your throat, and the sexy thoughts from your head, you look back at the job description.

You can do the job. Do you want to? You know the answer to that. As you scroll down to the Apply Now button that familiar, handsome figure appears at the corner of your eye and your stomach tumbles over itself. Turning from your PC you see Greg walking across the office towards you. Oh. You feel your heart tighten - he looks stressed, pissed off, clutching the files to his chest. Not a good press conference then.

'Hey.' Greg reaches your desk, stopping to lean against it.

'Hey.' You cover his hand with yours. He feels warm, strong. Rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with your thumb, enjoying the feel of him. 'So, how'd it go?'

'Bloody awful.'

'Coffee?'

He's looking at you, his eyes brightening, and his fingers are tangling with yours. A soft, tired smile on his lips and you want to kiss him - kiss him and wrap your arms around him and take away the exhaustion and the worry and stress, and just make him happy.

'Thank you. You, my love, are wonderful, you know that.'

'So you keep telling me.'

'And you'd be wonderful as the Assistant Commissioner's PA.'

'What?'

He nods at your PC screen, the Vacancies page still open. Oh, pants. Reaching over, you click the mouse, minimising the webpage. You hadn't meant Greg to know, not just yet.

'Sorry. I was just looking.'

'Hey, don't be sorry.' Stroking his finger along your palm, giving you goose bumps. 'You should apply. I mean we'd definitely miss you around 'ere but you should go for it.'

'Yeah? I'd miss you all too if I got it, I just don't know...'

Shaking his head, he smiles, looking so handsome and lovely and his mouth so kissable that your heart skips a few beats. Oh god, you have fallen for this man so hard.

'Apply for it.' Greg squeezes your hand. 'It's a fantastic opportunity and anyway, I'll still get to see you.' He's leaning close, right in full view of the office, his voice low and rough and sexy in your ear . 'Quite a lot of you, actually.'

'All of me, in fact.'

And he grins, winks and you feel yourself melting all over the chair.

*****


	15. Chapter 15

***

_7 months later_

'Ah, Lestrade! Excellent.'

AC Jones's voice makes you jump and you drop the file of papers you'd been compiling. Greg?

You turn and see that wonderful, handsome man in the doorway of your office.

'Hey.' He's grinning as he leans against the doorframe and you can't help smiling back, a warm, pleasurable thrill rushing about your body at the sight of him in all his messy hair, loose tie glory.

'Evening ma'am.' Greg, pushing himself off the doorframe, nods at the Assistant Commissioner as she walks through from her office.

'Lestrade, please take this young lady home. She's been here long enough.'

'Ma'am, there's..' You're trying to tidy the loose papers back into the folder but they're refusing to cooperate. 'there's still the..'

'No.' AC Jones holds up her hand, a smile twitching at her lips, belying her stern face. 'You've done so much today and the rest can definitely wait until tomorrow. The papers for the task force meeting with the Commissioner are ready?'

Nodding, you pat the black box file sat in the centre of your desk.

'Excellent. Then go home.'

'If you're sure?'

You look down at the to-do pile - nothing urgent and it's nearly 7. The thought of slipping into Greg's car and the quiet, companionable journey home (with air conditioning) is making your heart swell just a little.

'Very sure. Let this nice, decent man take you home and fuss over you.. and no, I didn't say that.'

'Thank you ma'am.' You place the disorganised file back onto the to-do pile, ready to sort in the morning. 'Goodnight. Don't work too late.'

'Goodnight.' With a nod and smile, AC Jones turns and walks back into her office, closing the door behind her.

Greg steps into the office and walks around your desk, his hand reaching out to rest on your waist. You can feel his finger drawing circles slowly, seductively through your shirt. And then his hand slips further up your back, rubbing tenderly, firmly; goose bumps ripple along your skin and you lean against him, his warmth familiar and comforting. His lips are pressing softly against your forehead; you close your eyes and enjoy the happy, snug feeling of Greg Lestrade.

'I was going to do sausage and mash.' A seductive whisper in your ear.

Nice. Your stomach rumbles and he laughs - that gorgeous, rough sexy laugh that makes you weak at the knees.

'Yeah? Sausage and mash, hey? You know how to turn a lady on.'

'Now I knew you only wanted me for my cooking.'

He's wrapping his arm gently around your waist, his head tilting. You're staring at his mouth, at his end of day stubble and suddenly you're remembering how it felt against your thigh as he kissed his way up your leg, and further, last night.

Oh. Your heart's thudding and you place your hand on his cheek, feeling the sexy roughness.

'What you thinking?' Licking his lips, he grins as you trail your fingers along his stubble.

'I'm thinking about dessert.'

'Yeah?' There's that cheeky look in his eyes, and he's grinning even wider. 'Sausage and mash and dessert. I think..' a soft kiss on your cheek ' .. that I better get you home..' a quick kiss on your lips '...before the thought takes hold here and now.'

'Might be an idea. Though..' and you catch his lips back with yours and kiss him, letting your fingers tangle in his hair; the feel of his tongue pushing against your mouth makes your toes tingle and your heart beat faster. 'One to keep you going.'

Another cheeky grin and he's grabbing your hand. 'Come on you, let's go home.'

*****


End file.
